Cacophony of Eternity
by Feichin LeFay
Summary: It is 1989, Castlevania has passed on into myth, but when a millionaire and his mysterious wife bring the castle to America, it is up to Alucard and the great-grandchildren of John Morris, and a Descendant of a Fernadenz to stop them.
1. The Millionaire and his Wife

Note: Cacophony: A Harsh Sound, or an unpleasant mesh of sounds.  
***  
  
March 11, 1988: Near Veros, Romania.  
  
"My Good Man, what is that Tower yonder there?" A man asked in American-accented French as he points to a long spindle of a tower upon a cliff, remains of a castle, which seemingly had long since crumbled into the ground. The man was in his mid-twenties, with curly, yet well-groomed blonde hair, sharp, dagger-like blue eyes, aquiline nose, with thin lips framed by a thick mustache and neck-length beard. He appearances suit more to a tycoon from the Industrial age rather then a globe-trotter who happen to have the money to burn.  
  
"A place called Castlevania, Sir." The Guide, a short stocky man with dark messy hair, and dark skin replied timidly in French, which is heavily accented by his Romanian tongue. "I would not recommend going there, Sir. An evil demon used to live there." He gulps as the horse beneath him fidgets uneasily, as if it understood the guide's words.  
  
"A Demon?" The blonde asked curiously, though not in the snotty disbelief that the guide was used to get from these rich foreigners. "Tell me more of this Demon that used to inhabit that tower." He asked, a bit too eagerly for the native's liking.   
  
"He is a Warlock, A monster in human form that can cast evil spells, and had stolen the Villages' maidens in the night during his wicked life, never to be seen again, save perhaps transformed into monsters similar to what he was. My grandfather said a century before, a Saint banished the fiend, and with the fiend gone, his evil tower fell unto itself." The guide explained his well-worn tale. "But the site's cursed, no one with any sense will venture up there, including this man." The guide pointed to himself. "But I will not let you go alone, for I will not let you go at all."   
  
"Your concern is touching." The fair-skinned man replied dryly. "Well, it is becoming late, and I am sure you whether return to Veros then to continue the conversation out here, am I correct?"  
  
"Aye, Mr. Fawkes." The native nodded as he steer his horse around, and it gladly did so, the old mare seeming to have gain a special spring in it's steps as the two men rode down the beautiful, but deadly mountain range. "I see your Wife had not wished to join you." He commented.   
  
"Well, There is something in this land that is giving her a terrible hay fever, she could barely stand the moonlight, let alone this blazing sun." Mr. Fawkes explained as a quaint little village started to peek out of the thick oaken woods, a little hamlet straight out of a medieval woodblock, with the exception of a rusting pick-up truck, and a concrete building serving as a clinic.   
  
"I'll be heading back to my little wife, and the little ones. I hope you enjoyed your stay, Mr. Fawkes." The little man called out as he departed from the foreigner. Fawkes then rode alone through the Town Square, then halted the beast as he came to the stables of an inn, labeled by a hanging wood sign as the Running Lion, or so he guessed by the picture of the animal. The foreigner then had an inn-worker returned the borrowed animal to the farmer who had owned it.  
  
"Good Evening, Sir." The Innkeeper greeted Mr. Fawkes as he entered the main room. "I think your wife is not feeling well, for she turned away all food that was carried up to her." The Innkeeper shook her head with concern.  
  
"It's just her hay fever." The foreigner explained gently. "She gets so miserable that she loses her appetite, she would be fine by the time we leave, I should think." He started up the stairs, and unlocked the door to his inn, and slipped inside, switching back into English. "These townspeople are quite the compassionate bunch, or very superstitious ones at that." He sighed as he locked the door behind him. His eyes scan the inn room; it was comfortable, in a rustic simplicity, hand-carved bed, crude nightstand, though the bed, to his surprise was the softest mattress he had ever slept on. Fawkes crouched next to a long wooden box, mentally counting the minutes until the sun set. His clock read 6:30 when the very last rays of the sun vanished behind the rugged mountains of Romania.   
  
There was a soft creak as the lid the box started to move, Fawkes rush over to close the shutters, taking no chances. Then he smiled gently as the lid was thrown open, revealing his Sleeping Beauty to his eager eyes.  
  
"Good evening my Sleeping Beauty." He greeted the lovely woman who crawled out of the crate.   
  
"Evening, Joseph." She yawned slightly, as she brushed a green-black lock from her brilliant green eyes, and gave Joseph a toothy grin. "How was your day, hmm...?" She asked as she grabbed his broad hands, and rubbed her unnaturally cold cheek against it.   
  
"I've seen it, My dear." He answered softly as he stroke her long hair with his free hand.   
  
"Castlevania? What do you make of it Joseph?" She asked as she let go of him, stopping to adjust the sleeve of her blue dress jacket.   
  
"I can see that even in its ruins that it was majestic place!" The man replied as he held her shoulders, almost as eagerly as a schoolboy learning that school was to be canceled. "But if it is to be rebuild-"  
  
"'If'? Joseph, Joseph, 'If' is not the right word I would use." She interrupted as she ducks out of his hold. "It would be 'When', 'If' is for the dreamers and the... what was that word? Oh yes, the wishy-washy."   
  
"Of course, how foolish of me!" He laughed, flashing a brilliant smile. "My dear, I had told the villagers you do not go out because of a terrible hay fever, so do try to act like you have a bad cold if one comes across you." He adds in all seriousness.   
  
"I will,"  
  
"I unfortunately was unable to the convince the guide to take me to the site of the castle itself."   
  
"Superstitious peasants, though they are poor ones, maybe adding an extra fee to your payments will convince him otherwise." She suggested in a purr as she leaned close to his ear, her icy breath made the hair on his sideburns stand on end, and his skin crawled. "Now, are you familiar with the Romanian's system of purchasing estates?"   
  
"Pretty much, but I will know all the ropes of it. Soon, we can leave here, and perhaps take onto more scenic visits, darling." Joseph smiled as he kissed his darling on the cheek.   
"Hmmm.... Yes, we shall, how about Rome? I had always wanted to see the eternal city."   
  
"Rome it is then!" he chuckles. "I will get right on to the acquirement of Castlevania, so we travel to Rome soon!"   
  
"Well, I will have to excuse myself, Joseph." She sighed as she pulls a handkerchief from a pocket.   
  
"Please don't be out too late." He called out as she starts for the window.   
  
"Of course not."  
  
"And do be especially careful!" he adds.   
  
"No one will find out." She smiled as she crawled out the window, into the night. Leaving the man to prepare for what he fear to be a daunting task. 


	2. The stranger in blue

A mist lay heavily on the ground, seemingly to reflect the pale moon's luster, and muffling all sounds. The young man; no older then eighteen glanced around him, feeling as though this strange forest was somehow familiar. Before Andrew could dwell on the thought further, a throaty growl permeated through the fog, as the hair on the back of his neck bristled, the growl felt so unnatural, in fact downright evil. This is no normal dog, or wolf, or what matter of canine... Andrew gulped as he saw sickly yellow orbs blazing through the thick fog.  
  
"Oh fuck!" Andrew swore as he turned to run. He is gladder then ever about being the captain of his track team as he leapt over fallen trees, across rivers some yards wide; obstacles that would've left a less physically fit man stumbling. However, no matter how fast the young man ran, the heavy breathing and growling did not grow dimmer, in fact, it seems as though it grew louder and louder. Andrew clamped his hands over his ears, as if somewhat stopping his ears would make the thing vanish. "Shut the hell up! Stop following me you ugly mutt!" He screamed as he glanced back, and wished he hadn't. There wasn't one, or even two large canine-like beasts, but a whole pack, barely short of being able to nip at his heels. "Damn! You are ugly mutts! What kind of God allow such an ugly things to exist?!" He gulped as he leapt over a stone wall. "God, I hate dogs, I hate dogs, I really hate dogs!" Andrew muttered as he bolted towards the large tower that is barely showing itself in the mist. "And what is chasing me? That's right, butt-ugly mutts!" he whined almost pitifully.  
  
He leapt upon the drawbridge of the tower, gasping for breath, beads of sweat running down his face into his blue eyes, slightly blurring his vision. He scrambled as the dogs continued to run towards him. What a way to go, getting maimed by the ugliest, stupidest things on Earth! And they happened to be dogs! Andrew mentally screamed as he tried to run again, but trips and started to fall....  
  
But instead of falling onto the cold hard wood, he found himself enveloped into a mass of black and red velvet. Andrew blinks as he glanced up into a pair of honey-colored eyes. It took him several minutes to registered the fact he was in the arms of an oddly attractive man with pale skin and pearl-blonde hair, and that he was wrapped up in this stranger's ridiculously oversized cloak. And thirdly, this man felt as though he just walk out of an icebox... He added mentally. A howl snapped Andrew out of his grogginess, the animals were still there!  
  
"Again with the Shade-Wargs." A voice that (to Andrew at least) sounded remarkably like his own came from just behind the stranger. The young man gasped as he saw the figure, just under six-foot, with choppy auburn hair, wearing an extremely outdated blue overcoat, wielding an eight-foot long chain whip, with a sword hanging on the belt came out of the shadows. What had gotten Andrew's attention was how this man reminded him of himself! This has to be a dream...! Andrew shook his head, and despite that he tried to close his eyes as he heard another sickening howl, he was compelled to watch this stranger calmly walked towards the raging canines as though they were mild-tempered bovines.  
  
"Is he going-?" The young man asked but the question stopped in his throat as the wargs lunged at the blue-cloaked stranger, surely this man is Purina Dog Chow!  
  
CRACK! The whip resounded as it caught a warg in the chest, literally tearing it to shreds, as it screamed with a disturbing human-like quality. Again and again the whip flew catching the creatures completely off guard, as the blonde-haired man held onto Andrew protectively. Soon the wargs were but a bad memory, and a bloody mess on the bridge.  
  
"Whoa! Just who are you guys?!" Andrew exclaimed as he looks at both the man with pearl hair, and the one who had dispatched the monsters. "Well?"  
  
**** March 11, 1988, Seattle, Washington:  
  
Brrrriinnggg Brinnnnng Brinnng!  
  
"Shut up stupid piece of Junk." He groaned as he went for the snooze button, and rolled over. "Who were they?" Andrew muttered to himself as he stared at the Indiana Jones movie poster on his wall, being reminded of the blue-garbed man's choice of weapon. A whip... besides Indy Jones, why does it seem familiar?  
  
"Andrew! Andrew!" A loud tenor called out from down the hall, sounding very irritated. "Andrew Christopher Morris! Don't you dare sleep in!" "If you don't hurry, you and Trevor will miss the bus!"  
  
"Keep your pants on Dad!" Andrew yelled as he rolled off the bed, and pulled a deep blue T-shirt, light blue denim jacket and jeans out of the trunk, and threw them on. He hopped down the hall, stuffing his feet into his blue sneakers, and of course Trevor was already dressed in his slacks and button-down shirt, and had shoved the last of toast into his mouth. "Hey squirt!" he called out as he snatched some bread, barely avoiding colliding with his wheel chair bound father. "Sorry dad!"  
  
"I am not a squirt, Andrew!" Trevor sighed as he got up from the table. "And Andrew, you look like a mess, another nightmare?"  
  
"You could say that.." Andrew shrugged. "It has some guy dressed in blue carrying a whip... And a man with pale hair and golden eyes," Andrew sighed. "And dogs, big butt-ugly S.O.Bs who are probably rabid."  
  
"Oh? Well I had a bad dream too, it did have a guy with a whip, but he dressed more like a barbarian. I also did see the white-hair man." Trevor shrugged his shoulders; neither of them noticed their dad growing three shades paler. "Did you finish your homework? And no, I won't let you copy off of me."  
  
"Trevor, you're a freshman, why would I, a junior want to copy YOU?" Andrew laughed as he roughed up his little brother's hair. "See you later dad!" He called out as he snatched an apple, and his backpack, forgetting about the bread.  
  
"Good bye dad!" Trevor called out, closely following his older brother out.  
  
"Simon dear, what is wrong?" her mother, a petite woman of golden hair and blue eyes asked.  
  
"Evie, I think something awful is happening... did you hear what they just said?" Simon looked up to her.  
  
"Please, Simon, I don't want to talk about it." Evie turned around. "I'm going to get Sicily up."  
  
"Evie! You know it's not nonsense, haven't you felt the... the wrongness in the air?!" Simon sputtered as he wheeled himself in front of his wife.  
  
"Simon! I know it's not, but I don't want any of MY children involved with it!" She cried.  
  
"They are OUR children Evie, and I know if things will get as bad as it was a century ago...." Simon sighed. "I don't know what to think."  
  
"Maybe we should spend some time alone, to talk about it more." Evie suggested, "I'll call the school, and tell the boys to pick up those books you were meaning to get from Donald's book shop, and you know how the boys are about those weird occult stuff, they would be at Donald's place for hours, leaving us enough time to talk."  
  
"I should tell Donald they're coming, so he won't be surprised, and that he would keep snoopy in his room, you know how Andrew hate dogs."  
  
"Hate?" She laughed. "Simon, Andrew is afraid of dogs."  
  
"All right, I'll call Donald first." Simon rolled to the phone; very glad they decided to get that new cordless phone style. He dialed the home number of Donald's, knowing at this hour, Donald will ignore his work phone. He waited a few minutes as the phone rings, wondering if the man had gone out.  
  
"Hello, Donald Holmwood, your roguishly handsome sex ma-" a gruff voice answered but was cut off.  
  
"And you're wondering why you can't get any dates, Donald." Simon laughed.  
  
"Oh! Simon! Eh, What did you think of my tag line?"  
  
"About as attractive as your cigars." Simon chuckled as Evie rolled her eyes. "Any ways, Donald, my boys are going to your Book shop after school, and-"  
  
"Keep Snoopy locked up, I know, I wonder why Andrew is so terrified of a little Yorkshire Terrier." Donald laughed.  
  
"Don't know, and Donald." Simon whispered low, so that his wife would not hear. "And Donald, I think the you-know-what event is coming around, and I want you to not talk about it, okay?"  
  
"Shouldn't they know?"  
  
"Evie wanted to talk it over beforehand."  
  
"In other words, she doesn't want to tell them."  
  
"Donald! Just don't tell them, okay?"  
  
"On my honor as a retired army captain, I will not tell them."  
  
"Stop flourishing, Donald, you were a Draftee."  
  
"...."  
  
"Donald don't you dare lose yourself!"  
  
"Oh, sorry!"  
  
"Never mind, I'll call you later."  
  
"All right, good bye."  
  
"Bye." Simon hung up, and looked at Evie, who was fussing with their seven-year old daughter's flaxen braids (she was the only one to inherit their mother's golden hair). "Evie, I made Donald promise not to tell them about it."  
  
"Good."  
  
"I do think that we should-" Simon froze as his wife gave him a frosty 'End of the discussion glare.'  
  
"What are you talking about?" Sicily looked up. "What are you not going to tell my brothers?"  
  
"It's matters for older people, honey, now get your shoes and I'll drop you off at school." Evie cooed softly as she tied ribbons in her daughter's hair.  
  
"I'll be in my study, Evie." Simon called out as he exited the kitchen/family room, to the last door in the hallway, he pulled the door open, and rolled in, closing the door behind him. The room had rich wood paneling on the lower half of the walls, with old prints lining the top of the walls. He wheeled himself to the Queen Anne desk Evie had brought for him as an anniversary present, years before they had moved to Seattle, or before that accident.... Simon shook his head, no use dwelling on the past.  
  
He opened one of the drawers, and pulled out a key ring, with three old-fashioned keys hanging from it, and rolled to the closest. Using the largest key to open the lock, and then he grabbed for a object, about the average size of a cigar box, but it was made of a dark wood, and locked, he wheeled back to the desk, and put it on the cherry-wood desk. Simon went back into the closet, and struggled as he wheeled out another box, it has barely four inches wide all around, but it was around six feet long, made of unvarnished pine with simple wood-burn designs scorched into it. He rolled back, dragging the box and propped it against the box, and unlocks them both.  
  
"I had hope I never have to take me out during my life, or my children having to do the same...." He sighed as he flips open both boxes. The long narrow box contained a long gleaming three-prong spear, with ebony shaft embossed with silver vines, a weapon of simple understated beauty. Simon gave it a brief nod, and then he slowly, and with almost a religious awe lifted the lid with shaky hands, and putting a hand in, he slowly withdrew a battered old whip, obviously seeing both many years and much usage in it's time. The dark-hair man ran his finger over the braiding of the weapon, almost feeling it pulsating in his hand, reminding him morbidly of a beating heart, he shoved the weapon back into the box, cursing under his breath as he left the room. He now realized why Evie was so dead set against it.  
  
It was one thing thinking about it, it was another thing to actually holding the very weapon that brought fame and tragedy to his ancestors. As long as possible, He will not let either of his sons to hold the infamous Vampire killer.  
  
Unbeknownst to him, however, the lid of the whip's container flew open, and the weapon crept half way out, as if it gained a mind of it's own. The Vampire Killer will not be denied. 


End file.
